Revelation
by unicornball
Summary: Only an angel's soul mate can see their wings. Dean has always been able to see Castiel's wings but he thought everyone else could, too. When he finds out they can't, he asks Cas about it. (Destiel. Soulmate AU [of sorts]. Wing!Kink. Rated M; mature content and language.) Complete.


_(A/N: Rated **M** for mature content content and language._

_tumblr prompt: _"ultron-in-drag: AU where when angels find their soul mates they can see the angels wings. Dean has always been able to see cas' wings but he thought everyone else could too, then he finds out they can't and asks cas about it... you know where I'm going with this."

_I totally did know and _this_ happened. _

_Warnings/Tags: MalexMale slash. Language. Smut. Wing!Kink. AU-ish__—'Soulmates' trope. Possible season 10 (episode 18) spoilers.  
_

_Enjoy.)_

* * *

The first time Dean Winchester saw Castiel's wings, he'd been too preoccupied with 'what the fuck is that' and the instinctual urge to gank something that wasn't human to really pay attention to much else. He saw them, of course, but he didn't let anything distract him from making sure he aimed for something vital and putting his strength into the shove of his blade—in to the hilt.

Besides, he was pretty sure the huge ass wings he thought he saw had only been shadows because Bobby had said as much. (It wasn't like he'd been paying attention to each individual feather, the arch and shape of the damn things.) Shadowed wings that really hit home the whole 'I'm-an-angel-of-the-Lord' thing Castiel spouted moments after appearing in the barn and making a WWE worthy entrance of pyrotechnics and light show.

So, yeah, the wing thing was totally pushed to the way-back burner and he didn't dwell on it.

By the time they were what Dean considered 'friends', he'd grown so used to seeing Cas' wings, he barely glanced at them longer than it took to admire the sleek feathers or take in how Cas was holding them. He'd learned to read them better than Cas' serious poker face since they only seemed to make an appearance when Cas was feeling smite-y or particularly emotional about something.

Like the few times Cas really strutted his angelic badassness. Most memorable was that time he'd pulled rank on him, reminding Dean he was an angel (like Dean could actually freakin' forget _that_) when the wings made another appearance. They appeared with an angry fluttering sound, practically exploding into being with Cas' wrath and really adding to the whole 'pissed off angel' vibe, arching high behind Castiel's back. He wanted to stare, he really did, but Cas had a hand fisted in his shirt and was shaking him like a rag doll so he was too busy praying he didn't get beaten to a pulp.

He might've found himself wishing the wings were out all the time, but they usually only were there when Cas was tapping directly into his Grace, turning his Angel of the Lord dial up to 11. He more often than not called Cas for a hand on a hunt just so he could get a peek, obediently covering his eyes when Cas would tell them to, hand trembling a little with the fucking thrill of it all. But he usually peeked between his fingers as soon as the blinding light of Cas' Grace died down enough he knew he wouldn't be sizzling his eyeballs extra crispy and eagerly steal a glimpse of bad-ass wings before Cas tucked them away.

He might wonder, a time or two, why the other angel's wings don't make an appearance. He didn't bother asking, though, since most of them he didn't give two shits about and he really didn't want to sit through a chat about it because he had a feeling it was like asking to see their vessel's dick or something. Besides, he didn't _want_ to see other angel's wings, anyway. He really didn't think they'd be more impressive than Cas' and he had little interest in the chance of there being some sort of my-wings-are-better pissing contest.

It wasn't until Cas was at the Bunker, human and wingless, that he gave the whole wing situation serious thought. He hadn't realize how much he missed seeing those huge-ass black things twitching behind Cas when he was antsy, arched high when he was pissed off, or drooping miserably when Cas was feeling contrite (or sorry for himself because he did yet another Winchester-worthy, boneheaded thing). Or that one remarkable time they twitched towards him before Cas cleared his throat and made a hasty retreat. The sound of them carrying Cas off was probably the only thing he hated about the damn things.

The borrowed Grace did weird things to Cas' wings. He found himself staring at them, wondering why they were dull grey, listless and nearly transparent. He opened his mouth to ask Cas about it but Sam had barreled into the library, a stack of books thumping loudly to the table, an excited 'So get this—' interrupting the moment.

And then Cas had his own Grace back and Dean found himself staring unabashedly at the proud lift of black feathers. Even if they were sparse and battered, looking painfully broken (reminding him of a plucked chicken that went 10 rounds with a coyote), they were _there_. He nearly reached out to touch one when he realized just how much he'd missed seeing them.

He didn't, of course, because that would be really freakin' weird. He really pretty freakin' sure that crossed some sort of 'friends don't touch friend's wing' line and he'd been careful not to piss all over that line for years now and he would continue doing so. And... well, Sam and Charlie were right there.

Dean sat back in his chair, rolling his empty beer bottle in his hands, watching as Sam puttered around clearing the table. It had been an awesome night, almost as if it wasn't like they'd just burned an evil, powerful book and they were just normal people enjoying pizza and good company on a normal Friday night. It was just him and Sam, and as much as he was loathe to talk about anything remotely resembling feelings, he was too damned curious not to. Besides, he figured he'd give Sam the ol' brotherly duty of talking like they'd been promising they'd do.

Cas' wings had been out and proud all damn night and no one else seemed to think it weird. He'd been really tempted, too many times to count, to say 'fuck it' to his personal space issues and get close enough to see if he could finally touch one.

"Sam."

Sam paused, balancing a stack of plates in his hands. He glanced up at his brother, eyebrows raised. That was a new tone for his brother to use. He almost sounded shy. "Yeah?" he finally asked when Dean didn't start speaking as soon as he knew he'd gotten his attention. He slowly lowered the plates back to the table and took a seat. "What's up, Dean?"

Dean rolled the bottle between his palms some more, gaze focused on the fraying label instead of Sam's puppy-eyes. He really should've known his brother would whip out the 'I'm listening—tell me all about your manpain' face. He nearly rolled his eyes and said 'never mind' but he was too damn curious and stubborn to let it go.

"Uhm. I was just wondering what you thought of Cas gettin' his own mojo back."

"Seriously?" Sam asked but Dean just shrugged and nodded, glancing up for only a moment before poking at the soggy beer label with his thumb nail. He took a deep breath and debated how to answer. Of course he was happy for Cas. And for Dean, once he saw how damn happy the news had made his brother, but he had a very good idea that wasn't what his brother was getting at. It wasn't like it was obvious how relived Dean had been when he'd heard the news. How his shoulders lost a little bit of their tense set at the news, a smile breaking out on his face, knowing Cas wasn't going to be burning out anytime soon anymore.

He sat back in his chair and dragged a hand through his hair. He went with honesty and shrugged, "I think it's great."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, nodding again. It was totally great, but he knew they had different reasons for _why_ and didn't bother getting into that Dr. Phil moment. He snuck a glance up at Sam, clearing his throat when he realized his brother was staring at him. Expectantly. Like he knew that wasn't what he wanted to ask about. He shifted in his seat and frowned, annoyed as hell he was being so damn squirrelly. He didn't know how to bring up the whole wing thing, though. It seemed kind of weird to talk about, now that he was thinking on it.

He deliberately set the empty bottle aside. "Shame they were all banged up lookin'," he said, trying not to think what could've mangled Cas' wings like that. But at least it didn't seem like it caused Cas any pain or discomfort. If anything, he was 90% sure by the end of the night there had been a few more feathers in there... Like they were already growing back and healing up.

Sam just stared. "Huh?"

"You, uh—You didn't notice," Dean said, realization dawning as he took in Sam's completely confused expression. He suddenly felt a little nauseated for some reason. He was tempted to check the date on the beer, even if it hadn't tasted skunky, he couldn't imagine what else could be the problem. Sam looked a little confused, though, like he had no idea what the hell he was talking about. He gestured vaguely at his shoulders, "Cas' wings? I mean, I know it ain't nice to stare or anything, but still..."

Sam shook his head, eyes a little wide. "No. No way, man. I'm pretty sure Charlie didn't either," he added, eyes narrowing a little as he looked at Dean. His brother was fidgeting again but making a pretty damn good effort to sit still when he realized it. "Uhm. Did you?"

"Nope," Dean immediately denied. Sam, of course, didn't look convinced. Like, at all. But thankfully his brother let the issue go and stood, grabbed the plates and headed to the sink without another word.

}O{

Dean knocked softly on Cas' door. He didn't think he was asleep, but he really wasn't sure. Cas was still adapting back to his own Grace, apparently, and was still healing up some 'cracks'. Or something. He'd kind of phased out, too busy staring at Cas' wings gently flutter and arch towards him every so often as Cas talked. He was pretty sure Cas would be making use of the bed, at any rate, and made sure he pointed Cas towards the spare room with the best mattress.

The door opened and Dean took an instinctual step back when Cas appeared in the door way, wings splayed out behind him. They weren't tense but the were huge in the narrow opening. He couldn't look away and he jumped when Cas' hand brushed his upper arm, snapping him out of his daze.

"Dean?"

Dean cleared his throat and forced his gaze off Cas' wings. He blinked a few times when he took in the rest of Cas, wondering where the hell the guy found the grampa pajamas. The blue plaid was surprisingly a good look on him. "Nice jammies, Cas," he joked, smiling a little, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said, smiling a little and running a hand down the soft cotton. He didn't require night clothes but he'd gotten into the habit as of late and he did enjoy the softer fabric and generous fit.

He glanced back up at Dean, head tilted a little. "What did you need?" he asked after another few moments of silence. He didn't think Dean would knock on his door, at this hour, to comment on his sleepwear. He stepped back when Dean leaned forward, his intent to enter the room clear. He sat down on the edge of the bed, but Dean stayed by the door.

It wasn't until the door was closed, Dean leaning against it in a way that was tense but striving for casual until the silence was broken.

"So, uh, I know this is probably gonna sound weird, but I was wondering..." Dean trailed off, glancing up at Cas for a moment. The wings weren't anywhere to be seen and he nearly frowned with disappointment.

Castiel waited, but Dean only stared at him, brows furrowed and hands stuffed in his front pockets. "Yes, Dean?" he encouraged. "What's on your mind?"

"Wings," Dean blurted out. When Cas only looked confused, he rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. Jesus, why were they so fucking bad at talking to each other these days? There was a time that Cas would've known exactly what he was getting at... Saved him the humiliation of having this conversation, said something inappropriate and they could move on with their lives and forget all about the awkwardness with good ol' fashioned repression.

Castiel waited for further elaboration but Dean just stood there, pressed against the door and glancing around his shoulders. His shoulders twitched, mostly out of reflex and a strange sensation clenched at his middle. "What about wings?"

"What happened to yours?" Dean asked. He nearly ran out of the room when Cas' expression immediately dropped into something blank and 'old angel Castiel', his posture going stiff. Shit. Not good. He raised his hands, nearly stumbling over his words in a rush, "Sorry, forget I asked, okay? That's probably really personal, but—" He closed his mouth with a snap and blinked, pressing himself closer to the door, palms flat and head thumping into the wood, when Cas practically jumped off the bed and stalked towards him.

There as maybe a foot between them, the personal space gobbled up with Cas' intensity and looming wings. The wings were out, held up stiffly and fluttering in a way he could only describe as nervous. He glanced at them, swallowing thickly and really regretting the whole 'have a talk with Cas' thing.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, voice soft and cautious. Surely, Dean wasn't implying...

But, yes, he certainly was. Castiel reared back two steps when he realized where Dean's gaze was trained. The overwhelming feeling of déjà vu had him stumbling back towards the bed and sitting down heavily. It was only then he realized it was something he'd seen Dean do before. Frequently, as a matter of fact. How had he not noticed before?

Dean waved a hand awkwardly towards Cas' wings, staring again for a moment as they flapped lightly before forcing himself to meet Cas' eyes. He really wished he hadn't asked because Cas looked two seconds away from smiting something, having a coronary or flapping off in a huff because Dean just had to go and point out how lame his wings were looking these days. Dude was probably a little sensitive about that sort of thing...

"Sorry, I just meant—" He paused, wondering how the hell you politely phrased something like 'your wings look like a bird's after wrestling (and losing) with a lion but I still think their okie dokie' . "Sorry," he said again, settling for the apology and shaking his head. "None of my business, right?" he chuckled lamely.

Castiel stood, easing towards Dean carefully. He was sure to track Dean's gaze again, knees feeling unaccountably wobbly when Dean's eyes flicked up towards his shoulders, focusing just beyond him. He deliberately flexed his wings, spreading them out until they brushed the ceiling and the walls. Dean's eyes followed the movement before meeting his own again. He hands fisted tightly and he nearly had to sit down again.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes, mostly just to center himself. This was... impossible? Unprecedented? Amazing? All of them, really.

"Are you implying that you can see my wings?" Castiel asked, slowly opening his eyes, gauging Dean's reaction.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said slowly, trying not to let the 'duh' slip out.

Castiel nodded, carefully tucking his wings back and away. He did not miss the look of longing Dean sent his way before going back to his carefully neutral expression. "How long?" he asked quietly.

"Since always, I guess," Dean said with a shrug. He was pretty sure he'd seen them during that nightmarish assent from Hell, too. He just remembered something huge and bright, soft and safe. Not that he told anyone about that. Ever. It was one of the few memories from Hell that he didn't mind revisiting, honestly. He crossed his arms when Cas only stood there, looking stunned stupid. "Can't everyone?"

And of course, as soon as he said that, he already knew the answer was 'no'. Otherwise Sam wouldn't have been so confused and he was pretty sure anyone else that ever came near Cas wouldn't have needed to be told twice dude was an angel.

"No, Dean," Castiel said softly. He smiled a little and stepped closer. Dean swayed closer, arms going a little slack but staying crossed over Dean's chest, most likely an unconscious gesture but one he took to be positive nonetheless. "Very few have that privilege."

Dean snorted softly, covering the heavy feeling of pleasure that bloomed warmly in his chest. He was tempted to point out that he, of anyone, shouldn't be given such a 'privilege', but he didn't. Not like either of them had a say in that whole hot mess. Cas would probably get pissed off like he usually did when Dean pointed out his short comings or bagged on his dad's failings. And he really didn't want to ruin the moment with Cas' pissy face and 'Dean, you are worthy' bullshit.

"Privileged, eh? Lucky me." He grinned impishly, wiggling his eyebrows. But Cas just smiled again, a warm one that he didn't see very often. He stepped closer, not at all bothered by the shrinking bubble of personal space.

"Possibly," Castiel said cautiously. He knew what this meant but he did not know how Dean would react to learning the finer details behind the reason. He was tempted to drop the issue, afraid of the immediate rejection, but he'd vowed long ago not to keep information from Dean again. Even potentially personally harmful information. "Do you wish to know why it's only a privileged few?" Dean nodded, expression openly curious.

He stepped closer, their toes nearly touching. "Only soul mates may see an angel's wings."

Somewhere in the Bunker, they could hear a door closing, but otherwise the room was still and preternaturally quiet, not even the sound of Dean's breathing breaking the silence because it appeared he'd stopped doing so. Castiel was moments away from prodding Dean, legitimately worried something had gone wrong with the human's bodily functions when Dean gasped in a shaky breath and stared at him, wide eyed, bottom lip trembling minutely.

The urge to enfold Dean in his arms and wings was not a new one, but he resisted like he always did. Even with the revelation, he had no idea how Dean would react to such an intimate gesture.

Dean forced two deep breaths, trying to regain a sense of reality. He didn't move otherwise, scared his knees would give out and he'd pass out like freakin' Scarlett O'Hara or something. Because there was no way he'd actually heard what he thought he heard.

The silence was probably the worst; Cas just standing there, staring, as he had a mini-shit fit in his head. He couldn't think of a thing to say, either. He just stood there, struggling with the information, the fucking _weight_ of it. The heavy feeling in his feet and chest warring with the lightheaded feeling up top made it all feel surreal. Impossible.

Castiel just watched, let Dean think. React. He frowned slightly, eyes narrowed, when he noticed the clench of Dean's jaw, his hands fisted. He stepped closer purely out of instinct when he heard Dean's small, choked voice.

"How—?" was all Dean could manage, leaving the rest hanging there. Unspoken but heard nonetheless. How was it possible that _him_, of all people, got this? He had no idea angels did the soul mate thing—not that he paid much attention to the finer details of the angel horizontal mambo—let alone that it could happen with a lowly human. Especially one such as him.

He stared at the Mark on his arm, jaw clenching as he glared at the angry red of it. He nearly flinched when Cas' hand came into view, cutting off his staring contest with the cursed raised lines. Warm, long fingers covered the Mark without hesitation and he couldn't really help the warm clench in his guts. He wanted to ask how Cas could stand touching it.

Touching _him_.

Castiel could feel the muscle under his hand shift and bunch as Dean's hand clenched and unclenched. "Dean," he said, voice warm and soft.

And really, that single word, the one syllable, answered pretty much all of Dean's questions. It didn't magically get rid of all his doubts, his disbelief, but it was a start to hear the warm affection. It had always been there, but he hadn't dared read anything into it. He slowly brought his hand up, covered Cas' with his own. It felt so fucking good to touch Cas like this, he nearly sobbed with the relief of it, that unclenching feeling of 'fucking _finally_' making his next exhale hitch a little before finally getting out.

"Cas."

Castiel shifted closer, silently capitulating to Dean's unspoken request for closeness. They were close enough he could feel Dean's warmth, their chest nearly touching as either of them inhale and exhale. It was the closest he'd been to Dean in a long time and he nearly closed his eyes to savor the moment.

Dean couldn't help himself, even though he knew this was some heavy shit, something to be taken seriously and with reverence. Think about thoroughly, weight the pros and cons. But still. Cas was basically giving him all sorts of green lights and heated looks under those damn lashes like he'd been studying pornos in his spare time. "So," he said, going for casual and missing it by a few damn miles. Cas looked up at him, head tilted slightly as he waited. "Can I see 'em again?"

"My wings," Castiel said, clarifying. Dean nodded, eyes wide and tongue sliding out to wet his lips in a nervous, anticipatory gesture he couldn't help staring at. He lowered his gaze, suddenly ashamed. He knew what his wings looked like now... And to realize that Dean, his soul mate, had seen them in this state was almost enough to have him flying off to hide his shameful display.

He slowly looked up when Dean cupped his jaw, gaze warm and understanding. There was a hint of a crooked smile, reaching the lightly crinkled corners of Dean's eyes, and he was smiling back reflexively. It was so strange interacting with Dean in such an intimate manner, but it was also very easy. He relaxed under Dean's gentle touch, leaning into the soft graze of a thumb along his chin and bottom lip. It was arousing as well as soothing.

"C'mon, Cas," Dean murmured. He really hated that hang-dog look on Cas' face. It didn't take a genius to figure out Cas was suddenly having some performance issues about his wings. "Please?" he whispered, leaning close enough to have their lips brush, adding a hint of heat to his words. It worked getting panties off more often than not, so he figured it was worth a try, even if it felt slightly weird using it on Cas.

And holy shit, did he want to make good on that tease and just kiss Cas stupid. He'd spent too many hours staring at those ridiculously plush lips and wondering... His very vivid imagination thought they'd look awesome pretty much everywhere on his body. Feel great pressed against his, wet and warm as Cas kissed him with the same intensity he did practically everything with.

He jerked himself out his musings. OK, wow, the 0 to 60 on the whole 'make out with Cas' thing was a bit of a surprise but he was totally behind that plan. 100 percent. But—one thing at a time... Cas just stared back at him, blue eyes wide and searching. Dean waited patiently, ready to grovel and beg if needed if it got Cas to whip his wings out again. He couldn't explain it if it tried, but he just wanted—needed—to see them. Especially now, now that he knew he was allowed. The _only_ one allowed. It was a pretty damn awesome feeling, even if he was still struggling with feeling worthy of it.

Castiel took a deep breath, steeling himself. He didn't often tap into his Grace for his wings often, it was mostly a reflex that just happened. But he found himself wanting to show Dean, unable to deny him something he'd asked so nicely for. It wasn't Dean's way, generally, and it was very hard to resist. He concentrated, focusing his attention until his back tingled with the telltale feeling of his wings manifesting through his vessel.

He stayed still, eyes closed, and just waited. He knew the moment he'd managed to bring his wings forth when he heard Dean's shaky indrawn breath, the hand on his face tightening its grip a little before sliding along his jaw and neck to settle at the back of his head, fingers sliding through his hair and cupping the base of his skill. He focused on that, on Dean's touch, instead of any signs that Dean was disappointed or disgraced by his damaged wings.

Dean stared, full-on ogled with his mouth hanging open and his eyes bugging out a little. Because—_damn_. Up close, the feathers looked even better. Even damaged, the few stragglers hanging on were bright, shiny and soft looking. "Can I touch, Cas?" he whispered, his free hand reaching up even as he asked. His fingers practically itched to stroke along the sparse feathers, feel the delicate bones along the tops. As much as he wanted to slide his hands over Cas' wings, wriggle his fingers through inky feathers, he wouldn't if it would hurt Cas.

"Yes, Dean," Castiel breathed out, shifting a wing closer towards Dean without hesitation, again unable to deny him. He didn't expect that, didn't think Dean would want to touch a part of him that was so intimate and meaningful. He didn't know what he expected when Dean's fingers brushed along the sparse feathers, but it wasn't warmth and pleasure, lighting up his very Grace with the joy of it.

Dean didn't know where to look; at Cas' wings or at his face. Both were blowing his mind at the moment and he couldn't decide which was better. The feathers were softer than they looked, the inky color was hard to pin down—black, but shiny and iridescent at the same time. He kind of wanted to just sink his fingers in the sparse feathers and just... fondle. He carded his fingers through black feathers, eyes flicking back to Cas' face to check for any signs of pain or discomfort. He stilled his hand when he saw Cas' eyes closed, dark brows scrunched together and his mouth a flat line.

He went to pull his hand away, an apology on his lips, when Cas' wing smacked into his face and Cas' hand closed around his wrist. "Cas?"

"It's alright, Dean," Castiel murmured, gently easing Dean's hand back to where it was. "It's very pleasant."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he stroked through Cas' feathers again, pulling just a little. Cas swayed on his feet and made a thick noise in the back of his throat. Holy shit, if he didn't know any better— "This getting you off, man?" he asked, smirking a little. He tugged a little harder, still being careful not to be too rough with the healing wings. Cas moaned out loud this time and he couldn't control the way his fingers clenched down in response.

Because, holy shit, Cas moaning was probably one of the hottest things he'd ever heard. He wiggled his fingers, brushing downwards in a teasing stroke. Cas gulped in a breath and his wing twitched towards him, hard enough to blow his hair back briefly. He was tempted to poke fun at Cas having a fun-button on his damn wings, but he wasn't exactly unaffected by the whole thing either.

Which Cas was quick to notice.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, taking in Dean's aroused state. He'd seen Dean aroused before; the flushed cheeks, dilated pupils and tented jeans before—no stranger to interrupting Dean's varied moments mid-coitus as much as he tried to avoid doing so—but not in this sort of situation. Never because of _him_. It was arousing all on its own and he reached out, intent to feel the firm warmth trapped in Dean's jeans.

Dean jumped, hips twitching towards Cas. "Son of a—" he breathed, unabashedly rubbing himself against Cas' palm. His fingers tightened on Cas' wing and they both moaned at the same time when Cas' palm pressed in harder, sliding up and down a little as he did so. He shifted closer and got his other hand on Cas' other wing, making a sound of pleased satisfaction when Cas' wings arched up into his hands, feathers puffing out and trembling a little.

"This okay?" he finally though to ask, dragging a hand along the large bones along the top until he was palming the narrow space between them at Cas' back. Cas arched into him, their chests pressing together, all firm muscles and scratchy cotton. Cas nodded and he was quick to get back at it, not even caring this was probably mildly inappropriate activities for someone who just only found out they were soul mated with someone.

But then again, maybe he could just chalk the past few years up to some really awkward ass foreplay and just roll with it.

Castiel pressed closer, trapping his hand between their bodies when Dean pulled him in a kiss, eagerly slid his hands into his hair. He made a growling sound of pleasure, enjoying the pleasure-pain tingles along his scalp and neck. It almost distracted him away from what he'd been doing, nearly he let his sense be overrun with _Dean _and_ Mine_ for a few moments before pulling away from Dean with a obscenely wet sound as their mouths disconnected.

"Mine," he growled lowly, surprised by the possessive tone, the base feeling that swept through him. He felt more than heard Dean's immediate agreement. He was soothed, able to dampen the surge of _need now_ that nearly rose up in the face of a possible challenge, the threat of rejection. There would be others and he needed them all to know Dean was his. He almost hated the instincts driving him and leaving him feeling almost helpless and out of control now that they've been unleashed. Set free by Dean's willing acceptance, pleased he didn't appear the least turned off or bothered by the display. Castiel made a soft sound when a hand gently slid along his neck and into his hair, strong fingers kneading and massaging, reveling in Dean's touch.

Dean went with it. This whole damn thing was arousing as anything he could ever remember happening to him and he couldn't imagine being able to stop now that they've gotten started. He made a soft sound of surprised pleasure when there was a soft rustle of wings and dark feathers were obscuring his vision when Cas wrapped them around him. He stared, fascinated, and gently stroked along the top of one trembling wing. It stretched towards his hand like Cas himself had done before flapping back, stretching fully to an impressive span.

He made a soft, appreciative noise and he watched, fascinated and a little more turned on, as the wings quivered a little before raising. Arching high and stretching out as if to preen and show off. If he weren't stupidly aroused, he'd probably chuckle at the little display. He didn't even think to care about the state of them, their hugeness alone enough to be impressive.

Dean went back to admiring the wings, no longer afraid to touch and very aware Cas was enjoying him ogling his feathers now. He brushed his fingers along the sparse clusters of downy under feathers, grinning when Cas shivered and the wings folded forward once again, embracing him and tickling along his arms and sides. He couldn't quite get his hands back on them again, but he could still admire the beautiful wings, enjoy the strange feeling of _yes, right _and_ hotasfuck_ of being surrounded in them.

The soft, smaller feathers along the top puffed out and he had an idea Cas was showing off. He would probably wonder later why the hell _wings_, of all things, was doing it for him but right now he was just going with it.

Dean really wasn't used to seeing Cas act this way, most of his responses and movements seemingly driven by some weird angel hoodoo, but he liked it. He stroked along a wing, letting his fingers card through the longer feathers. He gasped with surprise when hands grabbed his ass, squeezing briefly before traveling down to the backs of his thighs. The pressure was a clear demand and he hesitated only a moment before he allowed the angel to manhandle him, lift him up and pull him close, gripping him tight. Possessively.

Huh. The groping was totally fine with him. He tried not to like it so much, being manhandled by Cas' super-angel powers, but it was just one of those things he'd always liked and Cas was really able to put some _oomph_ behind it. Arguing or refusing never occurred to him. He smiled when Cas made a noise of satisfaction as they pressed hot and close. There was more groping (on both of their parts, though Cas had much better leverage to get a hand under Dean's shirts and was the first to touch warm, naked skin) and hot, wet, open mouthed kisses that rapidly devolved into messy ones that were mostly tongues and panting into each other's mouths. Nips down his jaw and neck that had him moaning and muttering for more.

Castile pressed Dean into the door, thumping lightly as Dean's back hit it and held tightly between him and the wood. Castiel was quick to work open the man's jeans, dextrous fingers working the button and zipper without pause. He groaned appreciatively, fingers twitching with the urge to touch and caress, when he found Dean completely bare underneath.

"Lovely," he murmured, pleased at the thoughtfulness of his mate and the feel of naked, soft skin. He brushed his fingers over wiry hair, teasing a little at the soft skin and firm, twitching muscle, glancing up to check Dean's reaction. He loomed closer and he felt satisfactorily predatory when Dean's skin pinked, blushing prettily under the scrutiny and highlighting his lovely eyes and freckles. Dean's hands slid down his back and he was done for, he couldn't hold himself back another moment. Dean's legs spread eagerly accommodate him and he groaned as their bodies slotted together.

Castiel just stood a moment to gaze Dean, marveling at the pliant, aroused man. _This_ was something he'd never expected, no matter how often he'd thought about it. _Dreamed_ about it. Dean's hands were everywhere, stroking his arms, shoulders, the bare skin of his neck but they always returned to his ravaged wings. Not that he cared or had a preference as to where Dean's hands went—as long as Dean touched him (and, of course, let Castiel touch all he wanted in return), responded with that strength and passion, he had no preferences _how_ it happened.

As far as he was concerned, as long as there was pleasure and Dean's utmost enthusiastic participation, he would go with whatever Dean wanted. He ran a hand down Dean's side, fingers splayed and going with the contours of muscle and bone, noting which spots made Dean's breath hitch, his eyes roll back as he moaned, his body arch up as he sought more with soft sounds of pleasure.

He really liked Dean pliant and submissive and he was nearly overcome with the possibilities.

So much so, Castiel was nearly thrown back when Dean moved his hips in a sharp, twisting sinuous move that probably had the intention of switching their positions. He nearly did so, giving into the gesture and giving Dean what he wanted. But he just settled Dean back against the wooden door once again, clenching his hands around the easy hold he had on Dean's ass and dove in for another kiss.

He was curious what Dean had in mind, though, barely a breath leaving him as he waited for Dean to do something, deciding to let Dean lead the way. Mostly out of deference to his comfort level but also because he really didn't know how to proceed. He had ideas, of course, but he wanted _everything_ and it was hard to focus on one particular task. He was well aware of Dean's impetuousness and he could only imagine what the man would do in the heat of the moment.

Castiel was content to kiss and touch until then. He jerked with surprise when Dean's hand landed on his chest, pushing until he eased back enough for some space between their bodies. He arched into the touch when Dean's hands then slid down his back, squeezed at his butt before sliding around his waist, settled at elastic band of his pajama pants. Deft fingers worked under the waistband, teasing for a moment and then pushed down, fingers a teasing slide along his hip as Dean pushed down until his pants were low enough to drop, pooling at his feet.

"Holy shit, Cas," Dean breathed out when he touched warm, smooth skin of Cas' full-on erection. Cas just made a soft noise, probably just a 'whatever, move it along, Dean' sort of thing. He didn't even think about the fact he was eager to touch another guy—it was_ Cas_ for fuck's sake—just went for it and wrapped his hand around the first dick he'd touched that wasn't his own. A heated thrill worked through him to know Cas was hot and hard for him and he wasn't one to leave a guy hanging... The angle was a different but he wasn't a stranger to what felt good.

It was kind of awesome. Especially when Cas' eye rolled back and his fingers dug into his ass, hips jerking forward into him. His gaze immediately went to Cas' wings, licking his lips when they fluttered and swept forward for a moment. He stroked upwards, not all that surprised to feel sticky-slick pre-come all over his hand. He let go when Cas made an impatient sound and batted his hand away, scrambling with his jeans to get his cock fully out. He might've squawked a little when his jeans vanished but it drowned out into a filthy moan when Cas wrapped a hand around him in return.

"Fuck yeah," he hissed when Cas was quick to align their hips and wrapped a hand around both of their dicks. Cas was a damn genius. He didn't have much wiggle room, just enough to move his hips to fuck up into Cas' fist, eyes rolling back at the hot, slick, hard feel of Cas pressed against him and the firm, strong hand moving hard and fast. His hands scrabbled for purchase, brushing along Cas' face and neck before they ended up buried in Cas' wings again, feathers drifting down to the floor.

Castiel groaned at the dual pleasure points, panting out with every stroke of his own hand and Dean's clenching and stroking his wings and back. He slid his free hand up strong thighs, the slight tickle of coarse hair under his palms oddly arousing and just adding to the entire experience of being with Dean, his soul mate. He palmed Dean's ass, moaning unashamedly as he did when Dean hissed out another 'fuck yeah, Cas' and rolled his hips back into the groping touch. He wanted to touch more, explore more of Dean's firm, delectable rear, but he was distracted.

He tilted his head back and enjoyed the twin sensations of Dean's hands and cock pressing and moving against him in a hot, slick-sticky slide. He hissed between his teeth as the sharp punch of pleasure Dean elicited with a squeeze of those thighs around his hips and the firm yank against his feathers. It was almost embarrassingly how quickly he came to the edge; between how long he'd been on edge just being _close_ to Dean all day and the excessive amounts of Grace sparking through him, it wasn't going to be long.

A look up at Dean let him know he wasn't the only one. He stared, nearly distracted from his own pleasure as he gazed up at his Mate in wonderment and adoration. Dean was a sight to cherish; his skin flushed all over, a light sheen of sweat making him nearly shine. Those lovely lips shiny and pinked from being bitten (both by himself and Dean as he tried to muffle his moans). Darkened eyes heavily lidded and gazing back at him in a way that felt like he was set on fire from within. Muscles flexing and moving with a languid sort of fluidity that was entrancing.

Dean groaned, long and loud, head falling back to thump against the door, the sheer amount of pleasure nearly overwhelming. Cas was anything but passive under him and it felt fan-fucking-tastic. He felt feathers brushing along his neck and chest, the sensation impossibly adding to the pleasure coursing through his body in heated waves. The hand Cas didn't have wrapped around them, pumping hard and quick, thumb smearing wetly over their flushed leaking heads every other stroke, was busy as well, sliding up his chest and palming his pebbled nipples through his shirt.

Why the fuck was he still wearing a shirt? He meant to fix that, maybe tell Cas to mojo it away too, but Cas was doing something to his ass and he forgot all about it as pleasure spiked through him. His free hand shot out and grabbed at Cas' wing, again, right at the thick joint where it met his back, needing something to hold onto.

Castiel moaned, eyes rolling back as a searing wave of pleasure washed over him from the touch, his wings fluttering madly and buffeting them both, a few loose feathers drifting in the air and landing in Dean's hair. He twitched, his toes curling in his loafers and back bowing slightly as he came. He felt a flair of triumph and pride when Dean was right behind him, the pulsing wet heat of him feeling sinfully good against his cock and belly. He sagged forward, leaning into Dean and probably squashing him slightly, watching as Dean slowly relaxed, his eyes still closed. He hummed happily when Dean brought him closer, hands groping blindly at his back, his body still trembling minutely with aftershocks.

"Holy shit," Dean panted out, voice cracking a little with lingering pleasure, amazement and amusement. He pinched at Cas, making sure he was really there. He laughed when Cas grumbled into his neck and pinch him back in retaliation. He smoothed his palms over the part of Cas' wings he could reach, flattening the feathers back out as well in apology. He lingered a little longer when Cas made a happy, contented sound and nuzzled into him like a big, winged cat.

He wanted to find the whole situation weird; sexing Cas, pressed against the door (and coming in, like, 5 seconds flat), _the wings_. But it was practically normal, just what his life was these days. He actually just felt... good—even if it was kind of a foreign feeling recently (or, well, _ever_). He grunted in protest and fisted a hand in Cas' hair when the angel struggled upright, pulling away.

Castiel placed a soft kiss on Dean's mouth before pulling away to take in the mess on Dean's abdomen, smeared over the skin where his shirt had rucked up, all over his crotch and between his thighs, their combined essence coating him in a very pleasing way. It was quite affective in marking what was his; Dean positively_ reeked_ of him, in an intimate way. He hummed with smug contentment even as he puzzled why it mattered.

Dean wriggled under Cas' gaze a little, very aware of the mess all over him. He moved to clean the mess off his belly, slightly disgusted now that it was cooling and growing tacky. He looked up when Cas' hand wrapped around his wrist, gentle but insistent, halting his movements. He let Cas move his hand away without comment, just taking in Cas' hungry look, eyes dark, and going willingly enough when Cas leaned back and eased him onto his feet. The angel looked positively radiant at the moment, practically humming with contentment and a smug sense of possessiveness.

He was too sated to really care if Cas was a little too pleased with himself; he'd kind of earned it. His fingers still tingled and his legs were still wobbly.

Dean raised an eyebrow when Cas bent closer and dragged two fingers through the mess on his stomach, smearing it around and rubbing it in a little. He watched, lazy tendrils of heat and lust trickling back in when Cas picked him up and effortlessly tossed him on his bed. In a graceful move, he was straddling him, hands splayed out on his belly, wings out wide and arched proudly. He swallowed, gaze tracking every damn move when Cas slid down his body until he was level with his dick.

He watched, breath stuttering when Cas peered up at him, winked and then lowered his head and _licked_. Dean groaned, fingers digging into his own sides as Cas proceeded to lick away the entire mess on his belly and thighs. The erratic pattern of lazy laps, kitten licks and long, drawn out drags of a slightly-rough tongue was maddening. He didn't know if Cas was an evil teasing bastard or just that inexperienced he didn't know which method was best, but he was happy to let Cas have at it. He almost wished the renewed tingle of arousal would go somewhere as he watched Cas nuzzle and lap at the base of his cock, eyes closing slowly as if in bliss as he hummed contentedly to himself like his spunk was the awesomest thing ever..

He watched, transfixed by Cas. He didn't know whether to watch Cas' ass as it wiggled and swayed as he worked, the pink tongue as it lapped at him in ever changing patterns, Cas' wings as they fluttered and twitched with every move, the sounds Cas was making or those damned dark blue eyes that kept meeting his with heated looks and filthy promises. It was all good and he tried to watch everything.

Jesus, he didn't know whether to be amused, exasperated or completely turned-on when he realized Cas was already half-hard again because he could feel it dragging wetly along his thigh with every move Cas made. He nearly groaned at the promise of some very energetic (possibly athletic) angel stamina. It was probably going to kill him one day. But at this particular moment, he really couldn't find a single fuck to give about it. There were definitely worse ways to die.

Castiel flapped and folded his wings up, preparing to will them away. He paused when Dean reached up and caressed one, gazing at the dark feathers with awe, admiration and... well. Lust. He let his wing relax again and couldn't helping preening a little, enjoying Dean's attention and adoration, and allowed Dean to touch them again. He hadn't expected Dean to be so interested, given their state. But really, he should know Dean better than that. He should've fully expect Dean to take him as he was without judgement or holding back once he allowed himself to do so in the first place; that's just how Dean was.

While he hadn't expected a human, or Dean specifically, to be so interested in his wings, he wasn't going to deny Dean something he obviously enjoyed. Now that they were pressed close, sated and content, the pleasure was warm and comfortable. Enjoyable. He brought the wing closer, using the longest feathers to flick and stroke along Dean's peaked nipple through the thin cotton of his shirt. He smirked at the sharply indrawn breath, the way Dean arch upwards just a bit, fingers tightening slightly in his wing. Dean was so wonderfully responsive and he looked forward to exploring that thoroughly.

"So," Dean said, clearing his throat. He didn't remove his hand from Cas' wing though, just kept running his fingers through them, grooming them a little since they were still all over the place. It probably didn't help he'd been groping and fondling the damn things minutes ago. He worried it might've hurt, but Cas really seemed to get off on it, so. All good. Cas leaned back and met his gaze, expression curious. "So, you, uh—" he stopped, shaking his head.

Just because there was this new _thing_... He never did like Cas' habit of popping in and out and as much as it would probably kill him to have it happen now, he refused to glomp onto Cas like some needy octopus. He didn't _do_ shy, he didn't do needy. Even if he was, unfortunately, feeling all of that on top of the newness and the complete 180 everything took. They weren't exactly the sort to play house, kisses in the doorway at the end of the day...

Castiel waited patiently. He had an idea of what was on Dean's mind, but he wouldn't push. The hesitation and caution in Dean honestly pained him, but he could admit there was just cause for it as well. He privately vowed to never give Dean reason to doubt again. Of course, it would be nigh impossible to get him to go anywhere else, stray too far from Dean ever again now that he understood just how deeply their bond went.

"There's room. Here. For you," Dean finally said. Cas was looking at him, all soft and gooey-eyed, and it was downright embarrassing how good it felt. He didn't really want to wrap it around himself and take a nap... But, yeah, he did. He pushed the warm-fuzzies away and focused on the now. "If you wanted to stick around," he added, meeting Cas gaze and offering a small smile. Because, yeah, as much as he hated Cas flitting off to do his angelic duties, he hated the thought of forcing Cas into anything remotely domestic even more. He wouldn't ask, but he could offer and let Cas decide.

He might've crossed his fingers behind Cas' back in a childish gesture of hope.

"Of course, Dean," Castiel said, tone serious as he nodded. "I rarely enjoy leaving your company and I regret the previous occasions it was necessary." He pursed his lips and tilted his head a little, gazing at Dean curiously. There was relief as well as happiness there. But still, some lingering hesitation. "Do you wish for me to stay?"

Dean slowly nodded, swallowing around a lump in his throat. "Yeah," he finally muttered. "I know I shouldn't— I mean, I know you're a busy guy. Angel. Whatever, but you know," he shrugged and averted his gaze down, looking at Cas' collarbone peeking out of his pajama top.

Castiel nodded in return, smiling warmly. "Then, I shall stay. Here. With you." He took the brush of Dean's hand down his arm as a good sign.

"So. Soul mates," Dean murmured, drowsy but still awake. He yawned and Cas shifted him around until he was snuggled in like a damn teddy bear. He'd protest, maybe tell Cas he didn't do snuggling, but he was too warm and sleepy to argue. He'd tell Cas later. Sometime. Maybe. He felt Cas' hum of agreement and nodded lazily. "That's okay with you?" he asked, quiet and nearly wide-awake with anticipation. He went with it when Cas' squeezed him, closing his eyes at the sensation of a kiss being pressed into his temple and then to the top of his head.

He was turning into a damn sap and he kind of liked it.

Castiel nearly chuckled at the absurdity of it. "Yes, Dean. It's very okay with me."


End file.
